


Parts Unknown

by trashfortimmy



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkwardness, Consent is Sexy, Elio POV, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oliver and Elio meet, Slow Burn, Strangers, Train Ride, lbr these boys couldn't stay away from each other if they tried, smut delicious smut, they are cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashfortimmy/pseuds/trashfortimmy
Summary: Elio and Oliver meet on a train.





	1. The Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, welcome to my first ever fic! I'm so excited to be writing about CMBYN for my first time :)
> 
> I met a stranger on a bus trip and had a totally ordinary yet extraordinary interaction. Sometimes the universe just plops people into your life and it means something and it feels like the strangest magic.
> 
> The first few chapters are based on my story & then my imagination takes over from there - and I'm not sorry about it.
> 
> Also, I will love these boys forever <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Elio arrived at the station early, not wanting to miss his train. He walked with purpose through the large atrium, craning his neck to look up at the familiarly neoclassical ceilings, adorned with repeating arcs of geometric shapes inlaid with gold; then, turning that long porcelain column in all directions to look at the great expanse of marble surfaces surrounding him, somehow both cold and beautiful. It was as if he was in a cathedral, and he suddenly felt full of worship for the beautiful space he currently inhabited. He wanted to stop and stare, take it all in with mouth agape, but his feet didn’t stop moving, understanding their mission to get him on that train.

He glanced down at his wrist, eyes skimming over the silver and rope bracelets tied around him, before landing on the face of his watch. Noting that he had plenty of time, he allowed his legs to slow their hasty pace so he could enjoy the sights. He all but stopped in the middle of a corridor, taking in the people rushing all around him with luggage in tow. He wondered what it would be like to _know_ them, how it would feel to stand in the middle of all that chaos with some stranger he barely knew and look into their eyes. He’d never had that thought before, that _want_. He wondered what he’d find in that stranger’s eyes, and what they’d find in his. An unexpected chill ran down his spine, bringing him back to the present moment. _What was that?_

Somehow his legs had carried him to the newsstand, so he quickly perused the day’s selections of newspapers and magazines, deciding he had plenty to read in his backpack. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted bags of chips to the side of the shop, grabbing a few in the likelihood that his ever-present appetite would show up at some point on the train ride. He brought the snacks to the counter, paid, and left.

He took the escalator up to the train level. He squished to the right, leaning against the moving handrail, one leg underneath him, the other bent on the stair above. He looked down, noting how he was hugging himself, almost protectively. He didn’t know what he wanted to protect himself from. Travel always made him anxious, constantly afraid of being late, of miscalculating the time it took, of _missing_. Totally lost in thought, he almost tripped off the end of the escalator. Snapping into action, he hopped off the moving stairway and looked ahead. He saw rows of people lined up behind numbered doors, glancing down at his ticket to see ‘Door 4’ printed there. He found it quickly, stepping behind a brown-haired person whose large backpack almost obscured their entire frame. He let his mind wander to the possible destinations of this mystery traveler, and what they would be doing once they got there.

He was lost in this train of thought until the line started retreating in front of him. He gave one last glance at the back of Mystery Traveler’s head, then walked forward and held out his ticket to the agent, who punched a hole in the middle and noted his assigned seat. He walked through the door and across the platform, grabbing the handrail and stepping up onto the train.

The inside of the train was decidedly less noisy than the station and the platform, seeming hushed in comparison. He could hear the _snick-snick_ of his shoes on the tacky, plush carpet. The crazy pattern was trying to be hip and modern but failed in so many ways. He walked down the aisle to his assigned seat, finding that it was one of four chairs arranged around a small metal table in the shape of an oval, two seats facing each other on either side. He gulped. Not ten minutes ago he’d been thinking about locking eyes with a stranger, and here was his chance - he would inevitably be doing just that, whether he liked it or not. Would the other person be keen to stare back, or would they awkwardly avoid his gaze the whole trip? Would he have to pretend to look past their eyes instead of into them?

For now, he didn’t have to worry, since he was the first of the foursome to arrive. He imagined the people who would sit there in a matter of seconds or minutes, before the train departed, and laughed to himself as he thought of them as a quartet. He knew probably no one else would think of it that way.

He didn’t have to wonder about his seatmates for long, as someone came and took the window seat opposite his. She looked to be about his age, a petite girl with small features. Her demeanor indicated that she demanded nothing from him and was not bothered by awkwardness. This put Elio at ease. A few moments later, a man came and sat next to her. He was wearing a zip-front sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, headphones placed securely on his ears underneath the fabric. He didn’t seem like he wanted to interact but kept staring ahead, pretending like Elio didn’t exist. Elio squirmed in his seat.

The fourth seat beside him remained open as he tried to busy himself, pulling out his walkman and putting on his headphones, and placing his book and his journal on the metal table. He stared out the train window, busying himself with watching people still milling about on the platform. He was lost in random thoughts and the music coming through his headphones when someone plopped down on the seat next to him.

The stranger muttered something to the four of them, Elio being too lost in his own world to bother listening. He heard him sigh heavily, as if this stranger had rushed to the train and was glad he had caught it. Elio felt a momentary connection with the stranger, suddenly not wanting him to worry. As soon as the bizarre feeling came over him, he shook it off, chiding himself.  _ Way over the top _ . 

Not getting any response from the group, the stranger settled into his seat as well, pulling out his own walkman and set of headphones, and a book. A book which Elio instantly recognized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING <3 <3 <3


	2. And Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been forever since I posted! I feel so grateful for the kudos and comments I've received so far. THANK YOU!
> 
> I was so excited to post this story and then immediately felt incredibly insecure. I suppose this is what it's like the be a published author haha! Then I spent every single day thinking about it, so I obviously have to continue.
> 
> Here's a short lil chapter to get you through, hope you enjoy it.

The train started moving a few minutes after that, announcements blaring as the doors closed and the conductor welcomed them aboard. Elio kept his headphones on, staring out the window. He was too tired to play the game of awkwardly avoiding eye contact with his seatmates. He had ridden many trains by now, and felt confident that the announcements wouldn’t be wildly different this time around.

The landscape outside the window passed by with exceeding speed, until it was a whoosh of golds and greens, passing fields of trees, overgrown shrubbery and small, quaint houses. Elio was quite charmed by the view, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he stared out. He was soon, once again, lost in his thoughts of home, his friends and family, and the journey itself. The whole time, he kept tabs on the people immediately around him through his periphery, trying to suss out their energy, casually wondering if they would ever interact. The energy of the stranger directly to his left kept most of this attention, and Elio found himself trying to sneak glances at him. By the time he fully turned to look over his left shoulder, the stranger was slumped over in sleep. Elio felt his own eyes get heavy, the passing landscape a soothing lullaby that willed him into his own slumber.

Some time into the journey, Elio woke. The stranger on his left had his headphones off, book out. Elio tried to see what page he was on, trying his best not to be too obvious. He turned his music on again, staring straight ahead over the seat in front of him, not wanting to be caught. The stranger suddenly turned to him, waited until their eyes were locked and mouthed something.

Elio took off one headphone. “Sorry, what?” he said dazedly.

“Do you mind if I put the armrest down?” the stranger asked, pointing to the uplifted divider between them. 

The stranger seemed to be mumbling, Elio could barely hear him. He still had one headphone over his ear, being too lazy to take them off fully. Elio nodded dumbly, saying something along the lines of, “That’s fine.” 

The stranger continued to look at him and speak, although Elio now fully couldn’t hear him. The combination of the music in one ear and the slight noises of the train made it impossible to distinguish the stranger’s words. Elio wasn’t completely awake yet, seemingly still in a dream-state, and wanted some more time on his own to think. He wasn’t ready to interact, yet here was this stranger, this gorgeous stranger, wanting to talk to him.

Something passed in the stranger’s eyes that made Elio’s own eyes widen, his brain seeming to jumpstart awake.

“Do you speak Italian?” he asked, flashing a smile that was at once innocently genuine and invitingly sexy. Elio heard him as if they were both underwater. The stranger’s words seemed incredibly clear and extremely muddled at the same time, and he wondered if he had imagined them.

Weird, thought Elio. If the train had been traveling inside Italy he’d have understood the stranger’s question, but since that wasn’t true it seemed to come out of nowhere. He sat there, frozen, feeling as if this stranger  _ knew him _ , had found him out. How was this possible, how did he know?

“A little bit,” Elio nodded, not wanting to give himself away, suddenly feeling shy about speaking his native tongue. It felt like he forgot what words were. He almost felt like clawing at his throat, air wasn't coming in fast enough. Now he just wanted his music and the view and his thoughts.

“Anch’io,” said the stranger, chin tilted down, blue eyes sparkling.

_ Wait, what?  _ Was that an opening line? Was this beautiful stranger seeking Elio out,  _ hitting on him _ ? Elio wanted to feel special to someone so badly that he almost let himself believe this stranger wanted to talk to him, and him alone. But that couldn’t be.

His heart was back in his throat, his whole body a jittery mess. Elio looked away quickly, not knowing what to say. He pulled his headphones over both ears, slinking down in his seat as if he could hide there.

The stranger went back to his book, eventually falling asleep and snoring slightly. Elio took off his headphones to listen, and found it charming. Why did he feel so attached to this stranger so suddenly? There was nothing special about him, and Elio didn’t feel as though he were special enough himself. They’d only known each other for a short time, exchanged essentially meaningless conversation and mere seconds worth of eye contact.

And yet. There had been something there, a heat shimmering just beneath the surface that awakened something in Elio. A fire that intrigued him, made him pay attention, and left him wanting more. He suddenly found himself craving, more than anything, to connect with this stranger, to say something clever to catch his attention. He wanted the stranger to look at him like that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo...
> 
> "And yet" is my favorite sentence in the entire English language, so I had to include it here.
> 
> According to Google translate "Anch'io" means "me too". 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	3. The Knight and the Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> near-touches  
> philosophy  
> parler ou mourir?

Elio opened his eyes to a noticeably darker environment. The lights of the train car were low, a few seats ahead of him illuminated from above by personal reading lights. His eyes slowly adjusted to the semi-darkness.

Still blinking and sleepy-eyed, he suddenly noticed the softly snoring stranger inching towards him, head and upper body lolling slowly to the side, almost touching down on his shoulder. Looking around nervously, Elio noticed one of his opposite seatmates staring at him - or so it seemed in the dim light. He was suddenly afraid to make a move, feeling like he was being watched. 

He wasn’t convinced that he didn’t want the stranger to land his head there and accidentally sleep on his shoulder - at least then he would have a reason to speak to him. Upon awakening, the stranger would apologize, and Elio would effortlessly say, “Now you owe me,” inviting the stranger for coffee. They would talk in hushed voices meant only for each other in a corner of the coffee shop, smiling at each other over their cups, speaking about everything and nothing. Elio felt warm all over.

No one could find out how much he wanted that, so he steeled his expression. He didn’t dare disturb the sleeping stranger. His body was moving closer, and Elio dreaded the moment he would have to shove him awake. Holding his breath, he turned his back against the window of the train, moving his body out of the way of the stranger’s rapidly approaching head. He ignored his aching shoulder, went against his instincts to let the stranger’s head fall where it may. He stopped breathing. Just seconds before contact, Elio’s eyes fluttered, almost closing completely.

His mind kicked into gear, saving him from thinking too much about that head, that lovely, soft head. He had to talk to the stranger, but first he needed a plan. Maybe he would slip him a note. _I like sleeping next to you,_ it would say. Then his phone number. Elio’s heart beat rapidly at the thought. He’d never done anything like that. Plus writing the note would require moving, which at the moment, was the last thing he wanted to do. 

The stranger’s head was mere millimeters away from Elio’s shoulder when he startled awake, opening his eyes for the briefest of moments before leaning back into his own seat and falling asleep again. 

Elio was suddenly furious. How could this stranger just ignore him? Did he even want to talk to him in the first place? He completely lost his nerve and couldn’t bring himself to write the note now. His mind darkened. What if the stranger got off the train without having acknowledged him at all? What if they never spoke again? Elio panicked.

For a long while after that, he felt sick, a kind of aching whose origin Elio couldn’t pinpoint. The feeling was completely unfamiliar, made him want to run toward it just as much as he wanted to run as far away from it as possible. His heart hadn’t stopped its rapid pace and his nerves were frayed. He felt on edge, on the edge of something. A precipice. As much as he feared losing this stranger without ever knowing him, he hadn’t lost the hope for a glance, a conversation, a smile, an accidental touch. At this point he’d take anything. 

He resolved to take any opportunity to talk to the stranger. He wanted to truly know him by peeling back his layers and diving deep inside. He waited for an opening, waited for him to wake up. 

He thought of all kinds of things to say to the stranger. He could ask him where he was going and how long he was staying there for, if he planned to stay at all. He could grumble about public transportation, garnering sympathy from the stranger - _Yes, it is terrible_. He could even begin by reciting his favorite quote from the book currently sitting in front of the stranger’s sleeping form, one he knew like the back of his hand. 

_“The meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing, so that we cannot encounter them twice, but that some things stay the same only by changing.”_

It came to him easily, and from deep within him arose a great sense of satisfaction, similar to the feeling he got from playing his favorite piece by Bach or Liszt on the piano with his eyes closed.

Elio was being pulled to the stranger by some invisible force. Yet, when he thought about actually reaching out to him, he felt terrified. Talking to him would involve looking into his eyes, being on full display for those pools of pure azure blue. The stranger would surely see the fire resting in his own hazel orbs, the need already consuming him. Looking at the stranger would give him away all too easily.

To speak or to die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Elio panicked" might be the best summary ever really. But he chooses to speak!
> 
> This is going to get harder to write, since we are now going beyond my lived experience. Suggestions welcome!


	4. To Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio tries
> 
> the boys get stuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is gonna be a slow burn. BUT I did change the rating because I've written some sexy stuff that'll come in a couple of chapters. Thanks to whoever is still with me :)

The stranger finally did awake, headphones still over his ears. He sat up, brushing his hands over his eyes and face. Elio took the opportunity to tap him on the arm, getting his attention. He had moved too quickly and realized he didn’t have a plan. He stayed frozen in his half-turned position, finger lingering in the air, stuck on his inhale. The stranger removed his headphones and looked at him expectantly. 

“Can I get past you?” Elio asked, breathing out too quickly. He adopted an air of nonchalance to cover up his complete lack of confidence.

“Of course,” said the stranger, picking up the bag by his feet and moving into the aisle. Elio slipped past him, trying to gracefully exit the small space while simultaneously catching the stranger’s eye. He only succeeded at the first task, as the stranger was now looking down the aisle, face turned to the other side. As Elio walked away, he squeezed his eyes shut and scrunched his lips together, silently cursing himself.

Once locked inside the bathroom, he took a deep breath. _What was happening?_ He felt almost euphoric, drugged. Pulse fluttering at the base of his throat, he felt like he was flying, mind and body no longer as one. He remembered the look the stranger had given him, the one that had sent fire through his veins. Elio had felt utterly exposed by that look, flayed open. He was so embarrassed that a perfect stranger had been able to have such an effect on him, shutting down his capacity for normal speech. This was crazy, he thought, that someone could make him feel like that in a matter of seconds. 

He held onto the sink for support, looking into the mirror, willing himself to get a grip. He took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. He walked back to his seat, feeling the stranger’s eyes on him. As soon as he looked up at him, the man looked away. Elio felt his heart sink. The stranger moved into the aisle again and Elio slid past him, totally deflated. 

Elio slumped into his seat, limbs going boneless. He felt his resolve crumble, and he didn’t know how to get it back this time. He just needed an opening, any opportunity to say something to the stranger, this man who he barely knew. What did he know about him? Out of the corner of his eye, Elio noticed his white sneakers, fitted khaki pants, and bright blue shirt. He pretended to look into the aisle and flitted his eyes across the man’s blond hair, swept to one side and slightly disheveled. Elio barely had a chance to make out his face, but he thought he saw the faintest hint of stubble. His skin tingled. 

Elio let his imagination sweep him away as he filled in the rest of the stranger’s features from memory. Those piercing blue eyes that spoke volumes, inviting him to jump in. His breath caught in his throat. Elio continued to conjure up the stranger’s image in as much detail as he could - the strong jaw, straight nose, soft lips. A scene flashed before his eyes, the two of them in bed together, kissing as they whispered sweet nothings to each other. God, he wanted to kiss him. If this was all he could have, this complete bliss that existed only in his mind, that would be enough. He’d stake his entire life on those dreams alone.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost failed to notice the added pressure of the stranger’s knee on his leg. Elio glanced over, seeing the man with his headphones resting around his neck. How long had the man been sitting like that? They were officially touching, and Elio was suddenly on fire. It would be humiliating to make known his inexplicable desire for him, this man that he didn’t even know. Elio stilled every muscle in his body, breathing shallow like he wanted to disappear. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, and he definitely didn’t want the stranger’s touch to end.

Suddenly the train was slowing down, eventually coming to a full stop. Elio looked out the window, noticing they had pulled up in front of a service station. He searched the train car for any indication of what had happened, but saw no evidence of any kind. Then an announcement came over the speakers.

_“We are sorry everyone, we have to stop here and make a minor repair to the train. The engineer is on the way and we should be moving shortly. Thank you for your patience.”_

Groans echoed throughout the train car. They were already running behind schedule, and many of the passengers had gone from slightly to very annoyed. Elio wondered if the stranger was one of them.

He took a breath, preparing to speak to the stranger. He felt as if he was moving in slow motion, and his brain felt as empty as a wind-whipped desert. His muscles didn’t seem to be obeying his brain’s commands to turn his body towards the handsome stranger.

“Guess we’re stuck here, huh?” 

A voice suddenly came from his left, making Elio suck in even more air. He felt like a too-full balloon, ready to pop. The stranger was talking to him and he was somehow expected to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all this referring to Oliver as only "the stranger" or "the man" isn't terribly confusing.
> 
> The description of Oliver's clothes was inspired by his outfit at Le Danzing, but a bit updated.
> 
> I literally know nothing about trains and service stations, but I needed a reason to stop time for a bit.


	5. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heraclitus
> 
> company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a new chapter a bit faster so we can hurry up and get to the GOOD STUFF...it's coming I promise ;)

He was stuck with the stranger. Here, with the stranger who had looked at him and started a blaze. Elio tried to suppress a shudder.

“Yeah,” he managed somehow. Hoping he’d done well to hide the panic in his voice, still facing forward. He let out the breath he’d been holding and turned to the man.

The figure before him was even more beautiful than he had remembered. He no longer had to rely on the images in his mind, which were already slightly distorted by fantasy, nothing more than imaginary ideals. Now he could look at the real thing. Blinking his eyes a couple of times, he tried to come back to reality, but it still felt like a dream.

“What are you reading?” Elio asked, fully aware of the contents of the book, but not wanting to give himself away quite yet.

“A book of philosophy,” the stranger replied, picking up the book with his giant hands and holding the cover up to Elio’s face, large pointer finger curled around the front cover, tapping on the place where the author’s name was printed. _Heraclitus._ “Mainly about the nature of change. He says, ‘The meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing, so that we cannot encounter them twice, but that some things-”

“-some things stay the same only by changing.” Elio had no idea how or why he’d started speaking, only that he’d been too captivated by the stranger’s voice to think clearly. The words had just fallen out of his mouth, unprovoked and automatic.

Gazes locked, their eyes bored into each other, looking for answers. Their deep stare was broken when the stranger’s eyes widened and he spoke again.

“What? How did you know that?!” the stranger was whisper-yelling and leaning into Elio’s space slightly.

“Just something I read as a teenager. And many times after that. One of my father’s favorite philosophers,” Elio said, trying to sound casual, secretly hoping the man would be impressed. 

“Sounds like you have some father,” the stranger said, but Elio couldn’t tell if he was impressed or repulsed. “I read it in college. Now I’m writing a book on him.”

“Heraclitus?” Elio asked, voice lilting.

“Yes,” the stranger said softly, almost with affection.

A silence came over them and their eyes fell away from each other. Elio tried to breathe softly, although with his heart beating so rapidly it was a challenge. Staring down at his lap, his head felt at once empty and crowded with overlapping thoughts. He couldn’t make sense of any of them even if he tried. He was pulled back into the stranger’s orbit when he heard the rustling of fabric and papers. The stranger was shifting in his seat, trying to put his book away in his bag and clean up his space. He started to rise, and Elio froze, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m going to get some food. Later,” the stranger tossed over his shoulder.

This was his chance. He had to take it. 

“Want some company?” he asked, his voice sounding small.

The stranger turned back around, his eyes slightly narrowed, lips pursed. Elio worried he had gone too far. Surely the stranger didn’t want some random person hanging around and annoying him. Something in Elio’s gaze must have changed his mind, because the pinched look on his face suddenly melted away.

“Sure,” he said, motioning for Elio to follow and quickly turning on his heel, heading towards the dining car.


	6. Sweet Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from a line in "Bloom" by Troye Sivan.

Elio breathed out, still momentarily unable to move. As he noticed the stranger’s already retreating figure, he leapt into action, almost forgetting the walkman in his lap, narrowly saving it from crashing to his feet. He placed it as softly as possible on the seat underneath him, willowy limbs moving into the aisle. He followed the stranger through the doors into the next car, momentarily breathing fresh air as they occupied the space between the cars. The stranger opened the next set of doors with ease, Elio’s eyes moving across the flexing shoulder blades under his shirt, strong arms rippling as he pushed the doors apart, holding them there momentarily for Elio to grasp.

Walking through the dining car behind the stranger, Elio took the opportunity to let his eyes roam freely over the stranger’s body, mesmerized. The man looked strong and capable, broad shoulders and bulging calves; but at the same time there was something tender there, in soft hair and soft eyes. Elio felt that same pull towards him, felt invited in, not knowing if the stranger would welcome him once he got there.

They kept walking, a few paces apart, through the crowded dining car, where they sat in a booth opposite each other, between them a small table. A waiter came and set down menus in front of each man. The stranger immediately picked his up and busied himself with studying the offerings. Elio peeked over his menu at the stranger’s face, beautiful even when he was completely inscrutable. His eyes roamed southward, landing on the slight V of his shirt, ample chest hair peeking through. Elio swallowed. The stranger moved his head to look further down the menu, and the gold Star of David necklace around his neck flashed momentarily. It made the man in front of him seem all the more familiar, and Elio suddenly felt a bit of tension subside. The stranger put down his menu, crossed his arms on the table, shoulders slumped, eyes roaming the car.

“Where are you headed?” Elio asked, keeping the conversation light so he didn’t scare him off.

“When we get to A., I’m going to the airport and flying back home.” 

Elio’s heart sank. The stranger’s words were a cold splash of water in his face. All his fantasies about spending time with the stranger, even if only for an hour, were cruelly wiped away. He wouldn’t be around long enough for anything to happen after all. He still desperately wanted to be wrapped up in the stranger’s arms, but that no longer seemed like a possibility.

“End of your trip already?” Elio’s voice sounded a bit higher than usual.

“Yes, I had been in P. for about 3 weeks for work, and I have a lot waiting for me at home.” 

Waiting for him? Elio wanted so badly to ask what he meant by that. Did he mean to say he had more work waiting for him at home? Or was it someone that was waiting for him there?

“Did you enjoy yourself? Get to see the sights?”

“I did. Not as much as I would have liked, but yes, a bit.”

Elio felt like he was pulling teeth. The man in front of him was strangely guarded, and it made Elio want to get to know him even more. He clenched his jaw before continuing.

“Would you ever come back?” Elio asked, knowing he was stupid for getting his hopes up, but he didn’t care.

“Yes, someday,” the man replied.

“But it won’t be the same, I suppose,” Elio mused, leaning back and catching the man’s gaze.

“Neither will I,” said the man, a glint in his eye.

Elio sat there, stunned. He didn’t know what to make of the man’s comment. It had felt directed at him, an inside joke as if they were buddies. The man’s sudden change from cold to playful had him reeling.

While Elio was gathering himself, the waiter appeared again and started taking their orders. Elio somehow managed to speak enough to order his food, although his brain didn’t seem capable of much of anything at the moment. This couldn’t be real.

“Dining cars really are a marvel of the modern age,” the man mused aloud. Elio couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic. That glint had to be hiding in there somewhere.

“They were first introduced in England on November 1, 1879 by the Great Northern Railway Company on services between Leeds and London. A Pullman car attached to the train served as the dining car,” Elio rattled off, hands clasped in his lap, upper body leaning over the little table between them.

“Is there anything you don’t know?”

Elio looked up at the stranger, whose face was set with wonder. He marveled at the sudden openness he saw there, wishing he could learn how to unlock that expression, how to worship it. He looked as if a beam of golden light was shining upon him. Let him look that way always, let the sun never leave his face. 

He had no idea what he’d done to make the man look at him that way, but he vowed to try as hard as possible to make it happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'll never stop thinking about them.
> 
> TY for reading x a million.
> 
> Elio's quote about dining cars is lifted directly from Wikipedia.


	7. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meal
> 
> coffee
> 
> feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a long-ish chapter to make up for not posting in forever. but...absence makes the heart grow fonder?

Once they both received their food, they fell into an amiable silence, tempered only by silverware tapping on plates and overlapping chatter from their fellow passengers. Elio kept his eyes away from the stranger’s, not knowing where he stood or that he wouldn’t completely lose himself if he looked long enough. He still felt incredibly nervous, knowing he wanted more than just chit-chat from this man but not knowing how to initiate. He knew they were already running out of time, and they had only barely begun.

“Do you like your food?” the stranger asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, continuing when he finished chewing, “it’s pretty good. Nothing like the cooking I used to get back home.”

“Hm. Are your parents great cooks or something?” the man asked, hand in front of his mouth to conceal the progress of his own mastication.

“Well, during the summer we had a housekeeper at the villa, an amazing cook, so we always ate well,” he said, hoping not to sound too spoiled.

“Sounds like that would be hard to give up,” the stranger mused wistfully. Elio nodded. More silence ensued, both men focused on their meals.

“So, the villa? A vacation home or something?” the stranger asked unexpectedly.

Elio looked up, surprised. This stranger was actually trying to get to know him.

“Um, yeah. My family goes there every summer. In the winter too, for the holidays.”

“Must be a nice place to spend Christmas.”

“Actually, my family is Jewish so we also celebrate Chanukah.”

The stranger’s eyes locked on Elio’s, searching for something there. 

“Me too,” he said, voice soft, a kind of brotherhood.

“I used to have a necklace like yours, but I haven’t worn it since my mother told me we are ‘Jews of discretion,’” Elio admitted, cheeks warming at his admission that he had been staring at the man’s necklace. He hoped it sounded innocent, and didn’t reveal the longing he felt to be buried face-first where the necklace laid over that delicious forest of golden hair.

“Well, I guess that works for some people,” the man said. His voice remained enchantingly soft, inviting Elio to lean closer and listen carefully. The stranger dropped his gaze, placing his fork next to his plate and leaning back against the booth.

Elio felt a strange tension all over his body, as if he was daring not to move a muscle, not to breathe, lest he break this spell that seemed to have fallen over them. It felt intimate, too much so for two people who barely knew each other.

“So where is this villa you speak of?” 

With the stranger’s question, Elio let out a breath through his nose, rocking his upper body with the quick movement of air.

“It’s in a small village in northern Italy, not much to do there really.”

“How do you spend your time then?”

“Reading, writing, transcribing music. Swimming at the river. Sometimes going out at night. Anything to pass the time until we get to go back to Milan.”

“You do speak Italian, then?” the stranger asked, that sparkle returning to his eyes.

“Yes, I grew up speaking it with my family,” Elio said shyly, cheeks turning redder by the second. There was no way he could hide his embarrassment now.

“So, more than just ‘a little bit’?” the stranger asked, teasing.

Elio’s face was fully ablaze at this point, the stranger having found him out. He couldn’t help the small smile that threatened to turn up the corners of his mouth, tearing himself away from the stranger’s eyes before it overtook his face. He looked down at his half-finished plate, pretending to be enraptured there, poking at the rest of his food and attempting to breathe.

“I also speak French, and a little bit of German,” Elio said, hoping at once to cover up his discomfort and lead the conversation in a different direction.

“Ah, a Renaissance man,” the stranger said, smile quirking on his lips. His soft, beautiful lips.

Elio felt dizzy from the conversation already. He was no closer to figuring out who this stranger was, yet he obviously had little control over his feelings for him. The man seemed guarded, keeping others at a distance and wearing a mask to hide other versions of himself. By the same hand, he was engaging Elio, pulling him in; the man went from ice-cold and difficult to open and playful in a matter of seconds. How all of these temperaments could fit into the same person, from one moment to the next, was beyond comprehension. Elio wanted to pick away at him, scratch with his fingernail until he reached the man's innermost layers.

“I suppose,” Elio said, a small smile returning to his own lips to match.

Elio’s eyes wandered to the stranger’s hands, noticing how large they were, how fully they could hold him, wrap around his body. It was easy to imagine the stranger’s hands on every part of him.

“I think I’m about done with my meal,” the stranger said, hand spread out over his stomach. 

Oh, to be that hand.

“Would you like some coffee?” he said, looking into Elio's eyes, hand now moving up to signal the waiter walking down the aisle.

Elio nodded. As the stranger ordered their coffees, face turned to the waiter beside their table, Elio felt something on his foot, a new weight pressed there suddenly. He froze -- it couldn’t be. Surely the stranger didn’t know what he was resting on, landing there accidentally, thinking it was the leg of the table. And yet. The foot tapped his own, as if communicating that it knew exactly what it was resting on. The stranger’s foot slowly slid along the outside of Elio's foot and hooked around the back of his ankle, putting pressure on his Achilles. Their shins brushed. Elio blinked hard, with intention. 

It was now a struggle to keep his breathing regular, his hands from shaking. He felt like he was going to pass out. He prayed to whoever was listening that he didn’t get a nosebleed. He imagined the stranger’s toes caressing him, and immediately thought he was done for. This magical moment would surely be over if he started bleeding; the stranger wouldn’t be able to look at him after that.

Suddenly the stranger’s face turned back toward Elio, eyes locking again.

“I hope that’s okay,” said the man. Elio noticed the waiter had disappeared.

“What?” Elio said, breathless and practically panting.

“I like mine with cream and sugar so I got the same for you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Elio gulped, “that’s fine.”

“Guess it’s nothing like the coffee back in Italy,” a small smile on the man’s face.

Elio's response was a mumble, absentminded. “Nothing can compare, really."

“I bet not,” said twinkle eyes.

Elio had no idea what they were talking about anymore. Coffee, feet, who knows. Everything felt like it had a secret meaning, hidden just beneath the surface. He wasn’t used to conversations involving a multitude of double meanings, and it made his brain hurt. He tried to keep his hopes in check, shaking away the thoughts that the man was referring to anything other than coffee. Probably just coffee, nothing else.

The man's foot stayed on Elio's until their drinks arrived, steam billowing a delicious aroma into the air. Then the foot was gone. Elio was happy to have a hot cup in front of him to wrap his hands around, suddenly missing the warmth of the stranger’s foot. A warmth he had felt even through layers of rubber, canvas and laces. He missed it already.

They continued their conversation over their steaming cups, keeping it light, back to chit-chat. Elio could barely keep himself in the moment, the combination of the stranger’s recently-departed foot and his own fantasies coming to life made it extremely hard to concentrate. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to recall their conversation, but it didn’t matter. He was floating. He had imagined a moment just like this with this very stranger, this man who he barely knew anything about. This man whose name he didn’t even know. And here they were, sharing words and glances over coffee, in a world of their own.


	8. Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffee steam --> other kinds of steam
> 
> *cheesy wink*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I bloom just for you_
> 
> Troye Sivan, "Bloom"

They finished their coffees and got up to head back to their seats. Elio willed himself not to fall or stumble, his head feeling incredibly light. His whole body felt like it was weightless, unaware of the existence gravity. He steadied himself on the table, taking one last drink of water and letting the stranger lead the way.

Elio was glad to be walking behind him, to not have to worry about what his body was doing in front of this stranger. He put one foot in front of the other and tried to think of nothing else. _Don’t fall, please don’t fall_. He had a habit of tripping over his own feet, and with the added deliriousness thanks to the twinkly-eyed man, he was extra unsure of his footing.

Despite his best efforts to concentrate only on walking, Elio found himself staring directly at the man’s backside. He was reminded of the peach trees at the villa, producing plump little fruits that were at once firm and soft. A wave of peach-scent washed over him, his sensory memories coming back to him easily. Even through his pants, the stranger’s ass looked like the perfect blushing fruit at the height of summer. He wanted to cup it, lick it, bite it. 

He was thinking about all the things he’d like to do to the man’s delicious peach when the stranger suddenly turned into the bathroom and started closing the door. Elio stopped in his tracks, unable to snap out of his reverie and make his mouth work enough to say anything at all.

Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forcefully into the bathroom just before the door shut completely. Elio heard the lock click closed.

Inside the tiny bathroom, there was barely enough room for them to be farther than a few inches apart. Bodies almost touching, shoe tips pressed together, breathing in each other’s air. Their gazes locked as the stranger’s hand began sliding off Elio’s wrist, fingertips brushing his palm and sending shivers through his arm. They stood there, looking at each other, searching each other’s eyes for answers to unspoken questions.

Elio had dreamed of this moment and now it didn’t feel real at all. He wanted to pinch himself, ask the stranger what on earth they were doing here, but he kept still in order to not break the spell. The air sparked between them, hot breath on each other’s faces.

“Can I kiss you?” the stranger asked after several moments, which may as well have been hours.

“Yes please,” Elio heard himself reply, not knowing how he had the brain power to do so. It seemed his mouth no longer needed him, having a mind of its own. He wanted to acquiesce so badly, his whole body shaking with need. 

The stranger leaned in, wrapping Elio’s hips with his giant hands at first, pulling him closer, then sliding them up his torso and coming to rest on his shoulders. He lost himself in the stranger’s eyes, so open and vulnerable, Elio was falling right in. The man slid his hands towards Elio’s neck, thumbs caressing him there before cupping his face. Elio felt his eyes flutter, his whole body responding to the stranger’s touch. His breath came in hot, short pants, mouth hanging open. 

He felt ready to receive the stranger’s lips, expecting them to come into direct contact with his own. Instead, the stranger leaned in the last few centimeters to kiss either side of Elio’s mouth, both of his cheeks, and the little concave spot directly underneath his jaw. Elio lost all control of his body, no longer thinking clearly, relying only on instinct. The stranger’s large, steady hands held him in place, which was a good thing, because Elio could already feel himself melting. He closed his eyes, awaiting the stranger’s kiss.

When the stranger did finally lean in completely, it was the stranger’s tongue that Elio felt first. Wet and warm, it made contact with his bottom lip. It felt deliciously erotic, making Elio let out a shaky breath. Their mouths hung open against each other, the only direct contact made by the stranger’s tongue, now slowly moving back and forth, gently massaging Elio’s lip. They exchanged a few more breaths before their lips came together into a soft, sensual kiss.

It was at that moment that the train started moving again. Elio had completely forgotten they had been stopped all this time, and must have been too distracted to hear any sort of announcements regarding their movement. He reached out his hands instinctively, grabbing fistfuls of the stranger’s shirt, glad for the man’s grasp on his face to keep him upright. The lurch of the train gave them the momentum to spin around, gripping each other, Elio ending up pinned against the wall, the stranger pressed up against him.

The kiss deepend immediately, a sudden urgency between them. Their tongues wet each other’s lips and plunged into the depths of each other’s mouths. Elio pulled the stranger even closer by his shirt, overcome with the desire to become one. The man pressed his hips into Elio’s in response, creating a delicious pressure there. 

Elio couldn’t help the moan that escaped his mouth, the sound swallowed by the stranger’s lips. His cock had been hardening ever since the stranger had pulled him inside the tiny bathroom, but now Elio could feel the man’s own hardness against him. Elio smiled - the stranger wanted this just as much as he did. He was buoyed by this knowledge, and all hesitation fell away as he rolled his hips against the stranger’s, cocks pressing together through thin layers of fabric.

They parted to catch their breath and Elio let his head fall back, eyes still closed. He felt the stranger’s warm mouth pressing kisses along his jawline and down to his neck, licking him with his wet tongue and nuzzling over the just-kissed spots with his nose. Elio, now taking in more air, let his hands wander under the stranger’s shirt, fingertips grazing over the smooth skin just above his waistband. Elio gasped as he felt the stranger’s teeth on his neck, the delicious combination of soft kisses and sharp bites almost sending him over the edge.

He felt himself being spun around yet again, momentarily disconnecting from the stranger before being pulled back in to grind the stranger’s hips into the wall with his own. Elio let his fists fall out of the stranger’s shirt and opened his eyes. His hands wandered up to the man’s face, running his fingers over his stubble, shivering at the roughness he found there. The man leaned his face into Elio’s hand, swiping his stubbly cheek against his palm, then placing soft kisses on his wrist. Elio stared at him with wide eyes, amazed at the intimacy of the gesture, how natural it felt, even between two perfect strangers. 

The man leaned forward to connect their lips once again, hands sliding down to cup Elio’s ass and squeezing there. Elio gasped against the stranger’s mouth, flicking his tongue around wildly, finding teeth, gums, tongue. He felt the stranger suck his bottom lip and pull it along with him, and Elio let out a shaky breath accompanied by a groan. The stranger reattached their lips, humming against Elio’s mouth. Feeling emboldened, Elio palmed the stranger’s crotch, feeling for the first time just how hard he really was. 

The man grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling off his mouth, and turned him around in his grasp. Elio's back was pressed to the stranger’s chest, ass to the man's groin. Both of their faces appeared in the mirror, catching each other’s eyes in their reflection. The man’s strong, muscly arm wrapped around his shoulder and came to rest with a firm press to his torso, holding him there. Elio's breath quickened at the sight of the man's open palm spanning across the width of his chest.

“Do you want me to touch you?” came the stranger’s breathy voice against his ear. He felt another shiver run down his spine. Elio nodded quickly, letting out a small whine, not bothering to care how desperate he appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks x a million to anyone still reading my drabble....many virtual hugs to you.
> 
> We have a few chapters left but I promise to make it worth it. Next few chapters they really get into it....!
> 
> Also, go listen to Troye Sivan for real. He sings about being in love with boys and it's my favorite.


	9. Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get HOT 
> 
> <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _No angels could beckon me back,_   
>  _It's hotter than hell where I'm at_   
>  _I am an animal with you_
> 
>  
> 
> Troye Sivan, "Animal"

Their gazes locked in the mirror, letting their arousal be known to one another. The stranger’s intense blue eyes darkening as they bored into Elio, seconds stretching into minutes. Elio’s breaths came out as quick little pants, partly due to his arousal and partly to preserve the intimate atmosphere that had enveloped them both. 

The stranger turned his head into Elio’s neck, nuzzling behind his ear, rough cheek scraping against the smooth skin there. At this point, Elio was already shaking with want, the weight of his arousal too heavy for him to stay completely still. He tried his best but could no longer control his movements, pressing back against the stranger’s crotch and eliciting a barely there sigh of pleasure from the man’s mouth. Elio could feel the man’s hot breath puff against his neck and had to squeeze his hands into fists at the intensity of it all.

The stranger’s chin came to rest on his shoulder, his eyes peering down towards Elio’s erection straining in his pants. Elio watched his face in the mirror, the man’s expression caught between amusement and curiosity. He placed his hand on top of Elio’s, lacing their fingers together, and guided them to the waistband of Elio’s pants. 

“Take your jeans off,” the husky voice commanded him. Elio’s resolve was too weak to disobey the order. Before he could bring his other hand forward to complete the task, the stranger flicked the button open, gaze lifting to meet Elio’s in the mirror, chin still resting on his shoulder, eyes expectant. Elio inhaled sharply, feeling the stranger’s finger slide along his waistband and hook into both his jeans and boxers, waiting for Elio to undo the zipper and help push the pants off his hips. 

Once they were off, the stranger’s eyes went down again, this time resting upon Elio’s hard cock, already throbbing and achingly red. The stranger smiled wolfishly, moving his free hand towards Elio’s hardness. Elio swooned in anticipation of the stranger’s touch, ready to come just from imagining the stranger’s big, beautiful hand wrapped around him. He leaned his head back onto the stranger’s shoulder, eyes closing with pleasure.

“Look at yourself,” said the stranger, and Elio snapped his eyes open. The man held his gaze for a moment, looking at him hungrily, then looked back down again. The stranger moved his strong arm from Elio's chest to around his waist, fingers curling into the soft flesh just above his now exposed hip. His other enormous hand was still hovering above Elio’s straining cock. Elio glanced down without moving his head from the man’s shoulder, eyes the only thing steady about him.

Instead of closing his hand around him, the man pointed his finger and kept it there, floating in the air just above Elio’s erection. Like a magic trick, his cock twitched, trying to close the distance between it and the man’s finger all on its own. Elio let out a soft, throaty moan and moved his eyes back to the two of them in the mirror, seeing the man’s eyes flick up towards their reflection, a playful, open-mouthed smile on his face. It was then that he felt the man’s finger make direct contact, the pad of his finger pressing into the base of Elio’s cock. It felt like he was marking Elio, pressing his fingerprint into the most intimate of places as if he could make it stay.

Elio kept looking at the man’s downturned face in their reflection. He briefly took stock of his own face - curly hair wild, eyes dark, pink lips parted softly - but went back to the stranger’s quickly because this man was simply too gorgeous. He couldn’t look away. The combination of the man’s considerate teasing and his expression, curious and cocky all at once, was almost too much for Elio. He had never experienced anything more erotic in his life.

As he focused on the stranger’s face - his long eyelashes, the shadow of his barely-there stubble - he felt the man’s finger move along the top of his shaft all the way to the tip. The pressure was delicious, firm and resolute, and made Elio feel filled-in, like there was nothing missing anymore. 

The man then dipped his finger into the precum dripping at Elio’s tip, making him shudder. The sexy stranger brought his finger to touch Elio’s bottom lip, swiping it gently left and right, smearing the salty lubricant across his soft, waiting mouth. Elio flicked out his tongue to taste, at the same time grabbing the man’s wrist to keep him there. He pulled the man’s finger into his hot little mouth, sucking deliciously slow as his lips formed a perfect ‘o’ around the digit. He watched the man’s reflection, and saw that his gaze was fixed on the action at his mouth, looking like he was about ready to drool at what he saw.

Before he knew what was happening, the man pulled his finger free and turned Elio’s face towards him roughly, a strong hand on Elio’s chin. The next thing he felt was the stranger’s tongue tracing his lips, both of them panting against each other. With their lips pressed together, the stranger’s hand moved slowly down Elio’s torso towards his erection, their moans vibrating into each other.

Elio felt this man’s touch take him over, body and mind, and become his whole universe. There was nothing else, no other reality he cared to experience now or ever again. His body was burning and his cock rock-hard. Elio kept his gaze on the man's face as he turned to watch them both in the mirror; he seemed pleased with what he found there. The man turned his face back and crashed their lips together at the same time that his hand closed around Elio’s length. 

Elio lost all control, body trembling, breath stuttering, knees weak. This man’s touch was spellbinding and made everything else fade from view. It also practically made Elio cum, and he dug his fingernails into the flesh of the man’s thighs behind him so he could last a little longer. The air was thick with desire as they came out of their liplock.

“Does this make you happy?” the man murmured against his lips before brushing them with his own. Elio made a whining noise of approval while nodding slightly. The man began moving his closed fist along Elio’s cock, up and down in agonizing pleasure as they stared into each other’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TYSM for anyone still reading...
> 
> The first part of the story seems to have just flown out of me, and now I'm having some difficulty with writing the end bit. I don't want it to be over *sobs*
> 
> I will update as soon as I can :)


	10. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to Robyn's latest album on repeat, so it of course ended up inspiring the story. From her song "Honey":
> 
>    
>  _Can you open up to the pleasure?_  
>  _Suck it up inside like a treasure_  
>  _Let the brighter space be your passion_  
>  _I got your honey, baby_  
>  _Let go of your doubts, say yes_  
>  _Let it soak up into the flesh_  
>  _Never had this kind of nutrition_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year everyone! 
> 
> The boys are having LOTS of sexy time together, which will conclude in the next chapter. Then we'll see what happens in the aftermath...hope you're still with me!
> 
> I wanted it to feel like they're connecting with each other on all the levels, and for it to be as sweet as possible. They deserve all the fluff. Oliver is checking in often bc #consentissexy. I also borrowed from the novel, where they are repeating and swapping words. Hope that comes across.

Elio felt as if he was floating in outer space, drifting inside a black hole of want, a great void where nothing else existed besides the man’s touch, his scent, his lips. He felt as if supernovas were bursting inside of him, exploding with each thrust of the man’s hand down his cock. How all of this was given to him by someone he had only just met he still couldn’t grasp, but luckily every brain cell he had in his head was one hundred percent occupied with other things, like the tight fist moving over his erection, or the tight heat swirling in his belly. 

The man suddenly removed his hand and Elio bit back a whimper. He pressed back against the stranger, seeking to maintain as much connection between them as possible. The stranger’s hand came into his vision, palm open and fingers splayed in front of Elio’s face.

“Lick it,” the man commanded, voice gravelly.

The sound of that voice stirred something in Elio, and he let out a gust of breath, attempting to compose himself before obeying. He then grabbed the man’s hand with both of his own and licked, tongue pressing aggressively against the skin, leaving a wet trail all the way from palm to fingertip. Elio dropped the man’s hand and raised his gaze to the man’s eyes in the mirror, deep blue and wanting. Mouth hanging open, Elio rolled his hips and was rewarded with a soft moan from behind him. The strong arm tightened around Elio’s middle while the spit-slicked hand traveled back down towards Elio’s cock. 

“Yes?” came the rough whisper in his ear.

“Yes,” came the wrecked reply.

The sexy stranger moved his mouth across Elio’s cheek and down the side of his head, hot breath puffing against Elio’s hair, ear, then nape. Rough stubble on the man’s chin scraped across his delicate skin in the most delicious way, contrasting with the plush feel of those soft, strange lips. Elio’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the man’s movements in their reflection, stomach flipping with anticipation and desire. 

Chin hovering over Elio’s shoulder, the man opened his palm just underneath Elio’s erection and let a long trail of spit drop into it. Elio heard the soft plop of the droplet as the stranger’s saliva hit the skin of his hand. As the stranger’s fist closed even more tightly around Elio’s cock, his brain formed a singular thought, and it hovered there, as if it was written in the sky. _Both of us_.

Their combined wetness eased the way for the stranger’s hand, twisting and sliding over Elio’s length without effort. The man’s closed fist now moved smoothly, their two fluids providing much needed lubrication and all manner of squelching noises.

The man turned his face into Elio’s neck, hot breath now puffing against the skin there, from the base all the way up to his earlobe. The stranger’s little noises of pleasure were now fully audible, being broadcast directly from the man’s mouth into Elio’s ear, through his brain and down into his dick.

The man’s tongue swiped across the lobe of Elio’s ear before his mouth came to rest, open, against the spot just below it. Elio drew in a deep, sudden breath at the warm, wet sensation, and felt himself falling even further into the stranger’s grip. 

“Oh fu…” Elio breathed out, unable to complete the word.

“You like that?” the stranger mouthed against him, lips never leaving Elio’s neck.

Elio groaned at that. He liked the way the sexy stranger said things, especially this close to his ear.

Instead of answering with words, which he didn’t seem capable of at the moment, Elio rocked his hips back and forth, between the man’s closed fist in front of him and the still-clothed crotch behind him. The stranger wiggled closer, holding Elio even tighter with both hands, teeth sinking into flesh. Elio’s head lolled to the side, giving the man free access to more of his soft skin.

Elio was ridiculously close to finishing in the stranger’s hand and he didn’t even know his name. All his attention was drawn towards the parts of his own body that were touching the stranger; there was no need for anything else. Mouth to neck, back to chest, rump to crotch, fist to cock. These points of connection were hot, the friction of their atoms and molecules in motion around and through and into one another literally radiating heat. Elio’s body didn’t feel his own because it had never felt like this, the sensation so unfamiliar before this, but he never wanted it to stop. _You’ll kill me if you stop_. He wanted the man to take him over, own him, never let him go.

His brow furrowed at the intensity of his feelings for the strange man, and all that had happened since they had come into each other’s orbit. From his daydreams to reality, the man was now touching him, eliciting soft moans and sharp gasps of pleasure. He had only just been touched but he wanted everything with this man - Sundays in the park; one foot on top of the other’s under the table at meals; repeating their own names, then each other’s as they rolled around in bed.

These dream moments collided with the feeling of the stranger’s touch in reality and Elio’s whole body felt alive. He was connected to the man in every way, through his body down to his soul. He knew they were sharing more than just a simple touch, but he was also aware of the already fleeting nature of their relationship. The cruel stab of their limited time together didn’t fully register, though, because his body was too busy building towards orgasm. 

Together. This is what they were in that very moment and that is what Elio was willing to take. Better this than nothing, better this than only his dreams. He never could have imagined that anything like his fantasies with this strange man would become reality; he thought he’d have to settle for little touches, small words, looking into soft eyes longingly. Instead he got the man pressed up against him, heat radiating off him while he touched Elio where it really mattered. This was more real than anything Elio could have ever imagined, and yet it felt entirely like a dream.

“Uhhh” the stranger moaned on a long exhale, snapping Elio back from his thoughts. He continued chanting next to his ear, sending waves of shivers down Elio’s spine. The man enveloped Elio completely, with his arms, his scent, his whole self. Elio felt like he was receiving a special gift, some secret part of the man that wasn’t shared with anyone else, some hidden piece of him a few layers down, a few masks removed.

“Yes,” came the man’s rough voice.

Elio gave himself over completely, nothing held back. He surrendered to the stranger and to his own desire. He wanted to soak him up, take him within his own body. He wanted them to fuse together, to take a part of each other permanently inside. As if trying to melt into the stranger, he let his head flop back onto the stranger’s shoulder and leaned his entire weight onto the body behind him. Elio gave him everything he had.

The man’s fist moved particularly sweetly up Elio’s dick and he gave a strangled cry.

“Yes,” the man said again, voice hoarse and thick.

“Oh,” Elio moaned.

The man began kissing the base of Elio’s neck, where it met his shoulder. The kisses were soft and felt like tender reminders that he was safe. His breathing sped up, as the man’s fist began moving faster up and down his prick, now jerking him in earnest.

“Please,” breathed Elio, voice unreliable. The stranger was pulling him ever closer to the brink of his orgasm; the extremely high amount of adrenaline and endorphins coursing through his body made him bold. “I want to come.”

“Yes. _Please_ ,” said the man, face pressing into Elio’s neck as if trying to burrow inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted as much as I have written. Writing is happening slowly these days but I'm working on it as much as possible.
> 
> Been doing nothing but reading and rereading CMBYN fics over the holidays, so I have to thank all the other beautiful writers on here for their work!
> 
> See you soon <3


	11. Deep Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the completion of their little rendezvous, an ode to face squishing and manhandling, plus some favorite CMBYN lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I was only gonna touch you now I'm in it_
> 
>  
> 
> "Deep Blue" by Lykke Li

They were pressed up against each other with no space between them, their atoms fusing, their bodies becoming one. Elio could feel the edge of his orgasm approaching, although he desperately wished to simply go on forever with the man touching him just like that. The stranger’s giant hand was closed around the entirety of Elio’s dick, covering it from root to tip. He wanted to keep it there always, to cut off the man’s hand and attach it to his own body so it’d never have to leave. 

Elio could feel still feel the slickness from both their spit easing the way for the man’s hand, now gripping him tight. The stranger seemed to know just how to touch him, it felt as if he had always been touching him. There was nothing Elio wanted to do more than feel those big, gorgeous hands on him, inside him, all over him. He thought about what it would feel like if the man were to breach his body, ease a part of himself into Elio, slip inside him and never part.

The strong arm around his waist slowly uncurled, and the giant hand attached to that arm pressed into his stomach, fingertips pointing down, and slid slowly south. The man’s hand reached the soft patch of fur just above Elio’s cock and kept going down, the base of his member slipping between the man’s first and middle fingers. The heel of the man’s hand pressed into his lower abdomen as all five fingers clawed his curly pubic hair, pulling it possessively. The man’s other hand continued working over his erection with delicious pressure and long, slow pulls.

Elio practically yelped at the dueling sensations, lifting onto his toes and almost losing his balance. The man pressed into him further with his whole body, inching them closer towards the mirror. In their reflection, Elio could now see the dark blue rings around the pupils of the man’s eyes, the droplets of sweat on his forehead, the light shining off his skin. He now got an up-close view of that perfect stubble that had all but rubbed him raw. He got lost gazing at the man’s features, imagined kissing each part of him with deliberate caresses of his lips. He thought of touching him at the same time he was being touched.

From this position -- pressed up against the man’s front and all but trapped against the sink in front of them -- Elio touched whatever part he could, hands reaching out to find only a downy forearm and a still-clothed thigh. He wanted more. He reached his hand up and back to grab at the spiky bits of blonde hair at the man’s nape. As the very sexy stranger continued to stroke him, gripping harder and sliding faster, Elio slipped his hand around the man’s head, fingertips pressing into the base of that strange skull, sliding over a velvety ear and landing on a fuzzy cheek. He pressed his palm into that cheek, curling his fingers and pulling the man’s face towards his, bringing their lips together. The soft flesh of the man’s cheek squished beneath Elio’s hand; his lips felt divine against Elio’s lips.

That was all it took -- wet mouths sliding against each other, gigantic hand twisting over hard flesh -- for Elio to come. His release pulsed out of him under the stranger’s delicious grip, pulling with it a string of satisfied moans from somewhere deep, his ears ringing. His mouth remained right up against the stranger’s lips through his orgasm, head lolling back onto the man’s shoulder as the last of it quaked his body gently. 

The man folded himself around Elio’s body, hand releasing its grip around his now softening cock, arms snaking around his waist to hold him, furry cheek resting on the plane of his shoulder. Elio closed his eyes and let himself simply feel the hot breath now puffing against the side of his neck, the stranger’s clothed dick still against his ass. The man was radiating warmth, even though he was currently at rest, wrapped around Elio - or was it his own heat? The stranger’s pulse was pounding, a hard, steady rhythm, or maybe that was his own heart beating instead. Their combined scents, sweat and semen and them, filled the air as their breathing slowed.

Elio reeled. He had just been stroked to the best orgasm of his life by the strange man in the small bathroom of the train. They had kissed each other, pressed up against each other, breathed the same air, moved together, had they come together? 

Elio opened his eyes and saw the man looking down over his shoulder, the same shoulder he had been previously resting his head upon. He felt the stranger moving, but was too out of it to register why. He simply let himself be gently jostled as he tried to clear his brain of the cotton candy clouds of post-orgasmic bliss. He waited for some time until he thought they had cleared. 

“Do I know you?” a voice floated in from somewhere. In a daze, Elio heard the words but didn’t feel them fall from his own lips.

Apparently his head wasn’t clear enough. Those sugary clouds had spun themselves inside the walls of his head and it seemed they were here to stay. 

The stranger’s eyes briefly met his own in the mirror, one eyebrow raised, but he didn’t seem to be off-put by the strange remark. Elio held in the instinct to flinch, and instead cast his eyes downward. He hadn’t meant to break the post-orgasm silence with something so odd. He briefly wondered if he had said anything else to the stranger during their time in the small bathroom, if he had let anything else slip, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sight in front of him.

He felt his senses come back to him and he saw the man turning on the faucet and washing off his hand. Elio watched as his come cascaded off the man’s hand and slipped down the drain. After his hand was clean, the man reached for a paper towel and wet it, turning off the sink. The feeling of something cold and damp on his skin registered before the sight of it, making him draw in a breath. The man’s unoccupied hand came to rest on Elio’s hip, but his disposition remained unchanged otherwise, his face calm and body relaxed. He watched as the stranger swiped the wet towel across his lower abdomen and spent cock, performing the task gently, almost lovingly. The stranger seemed focused on his task, and Elio was surprised at the tenderness of the action. Elio had no idea what to make of it, the feeling of being cared for after he came, but in the moment all he could do was stare.

Elio continued to follow the actions of the man’s hand as he brushed the damp towel across his skin, throwing it away once he was clean. The stranger then prepared another, running it under the sink for merely a moment, squeezing out the excess water, unfolding it, and setting it aside. The man’s lips ghosted over Elio’s shoulder, large hands holding his hips with a firm yet gentle grasp. They stayed in this position for a while, maintaining light contact and enjoying each other. Elio felt like he was floating, like he hadn’t quite landed fully back into his own body. The sticky, fluffy clouds in his head were slowly clearing, but they still lingered around the edges of his mind. He was lulled into such a peaceful state that he was tempted to close his eyes.

His eyelids fluttered, but opened again at the feeling of the man’s fingertips gliding down his thighs with the lightest touch. The stranger’s hands moved to Elio’s pants, still bunched around his thighs from their previous activity. Within the grasp of the man’s long fingers, his boxers moved slowly up his thighs and over his spent and newly cleaned dick, the soft material brushing against his skin, landing with a soft snap of the elastic around his hips. The man reached down again, grasping the waistband of Elio’s pants, bringing them up just as slowly and with as much care. The man’s thumbs moved along the waistband of his pants, slack and droopy around his hips, brushing along his abdomen as he did so. He then gingerly tugged the zipper up and slid the button through its hole. 

Strong hands came to grip his hips and turned him around. Elio wasn’t used to being manhandled this much, but he didn’t see any reason to complain. As soon as he was facing the stranger, the man caught his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, the man’s eyes placid and tender. Elio barely breathed, not knowing what was coming next. He had let himself go completely under this strange man’s touch, but he had no idea what to do now. 

That question was answered for him when the man turned away from him, picked up the wet towel he had set aside, and began wiping, head bent. Elio’s cheeks flushed. That was his come the man was cleaning off the sink, and in his post-orgasmic state he was suddenly embarrassed by it all. 

He was also confused - was that it? He had thought about touching the man in the same way he had touched him, and didn’t know how to bring it up. He wanted to reciprocate the man’s actions, especially after having been taken care of so well.

“Do you want me to--” Elio started, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. 

The man turned his upper body towards him, and Elio couldn’t quite read the look on his face. He thought he saw some hesitation, but also maybe amusement.

“I’ll be fine,” the man replied, turning back to his cleaning task. Elio looked away.

“But you--”

“I wanted to.” The reply was firm, and unexpected. Elio’s head snapped back towards the man, finding his steady gaze once again. Elio felt bored into by those eyes. He was sure his cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, his body awkward and his words fumbling. 

“You wanted to?” the words left his mouth unchecked.

“Yes,” replied the stranger, wiping his hands on his pants before grasping Elio’s shoulders and turning him towards the door. “Now get back out there,” he said against Elio’s left ear, giving him a soft slap on the ass. Elio jumped slightly.

He couldn’t move, not just yet. He still felt out of it, as if he had been asleep all this time and was having trouble brushing off the cobwebs of slumber. He raised his hand and placed it on the door’s handle, turning back one last time to stare at the man. His man - or at least he had been briefly.

The last thing Elio saw before he left the small bathroom was the man wiping a streak of his come off the countertop next to the sink and throwing the towel in the trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has taken me FOREVER to write this chapter, but I'm writing it as fast as I can. I want it to flow a certain way and I haven't been forcing it. Sometimes writing takes time! I can't promise the next chapter any faster but I do SO APPRECIATE everyone who is reading <3


	12. Ever Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come my friends! Here is the end of their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from song of the same name by Robyn. The inspiration is two-fold. The song title fits the end of their journey because it feels like they may never see each other ever again. But, the song itself is about starting over, wiping the slate clean, second chances, and a new beginning. 
> 
> I was spurred to complete this last chapter after binging all of Russian Doll on Netflix in one day. It's basically about parallel lives and second (and third, and fourth, and one hundredth) chances and is mind-bendingly good. I highly recommend watching it!
> 
> Thank you to PerpetualStorm for the little bit of inspiration around the part about pretending. 
> 
> I also bring back our old friend Heraclitus in this chapter, and I think it ties things together nicely. I used his two main philosophies. First, The Doctrine of Flux, which is the whole "meaning of the river" deal. Basically that a thing exists because it is made up of parts that are constantly changing. This change is what allows it, as a whole, to stay the same. Second, The Unity of Opposites, which states that everything has an opposite and the opposing things depend upon each other for existence. If one thing disappears, so does its opposite.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this last installment!

Elio stood there, body not moving, hand lingering on the door handle. He felt like he was trying to catch his breath, to let sink in what had just happened. It felt as if he had landed on a different planet in the space of a single step. From one side of the door to the other, the world couldn’t be more different. 

He felt as if he had stepped into an alternate universe, one where tender touches and sharp blue eyes didn’t exist. Dazed, he let his hand slip off the handle and moved his body reluctantly away from the door. Walking down the aisle, eyes glued to the ugly patterned carpet beneath his feet, he felt empty. He wanted to run back into the bathroom, into the stranger’s arms, into that little world where it was just the two of them. This world, where the stranger wasn’t touching him, wasn’t pressed up against him, didn’t seem worth it. His whole body was still tingling with the aftershocks of the man’s touch, but without his physical presence Elio would rather be numb. 

The encounter with the sexy stranger in the small bathroom had filled him up more than anything ever had, but now he felt lost. Like there was a void inside him that he hadn’t noticed before; maybe it had always been there, and he had been waiting for the stranger to fill it, to satisfy him. Would anything ever measure up ever again, would he feel this empty once he got off the train and the stranger was gone for good? 

Elio felt dizzy with the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. Just in time, he reached the group of seats where he had been sitting and plopped down. 

Turning his head toward the window, head lolling over his shoulder, he spotted his walkman resting in the seat next to him. He was so out of it that he hadn’t noticed he’d slumped into the stranger’s seat instead of his own. His cheeks heated with embarrassment, not daring to look up in case anyone spotted his foolishness. Elio squirmed in the seat, pretending that he simply intended to scoot over into his own chair. Before his body fully moved to sit in his original seat, a thought flashed through his mind. This was the man’s seat; the man who had touched him and brought him to the stars. It was almost as if they were touching now. Elio imagined the man’s form on the chair - his soft blond locks, his piercing blue eyes, his strong arms, his solid torso, his perfectly round peach of an ass. Elio realized that his own posterior was resting exactly where the man’s had been and his stomach clenched. This was the man’s seat, but now it was something they shared.

He wanted to stay in that seat forever, to never leave it, but he slowly scooted into his own, picking up his walkman and settling in. Placing the headphones over his ears, he resumed his music and stared out the window, forehead resting on the glass.

When he awoke it was light. The stranger was sitting next to him, eyes closed and breath soft. He looked peaceful in sleep, somehow younger. The armrest was back down between them, their bodies just barely touching from shoulder to elbow. Elio’s eyes washed down the man’s side, skimming over the man’s forearm, which was slightly upturned, exposing the inside of his elbow to Elio’s gaze. It looked delicate, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by it. That smooth spot had stayed hidden from Elio’s gaze until now, and it felt like a secret. He thought of all the other parts of the man he had yet to discover, wanted to put his fingers and mouth on all the soft spots he hadn’t yet touched.

He felt as if he had come full circle, and yet there was still so much to be discovered. He had certainly got more than he ever thought possible from the strange man sitting next to him, but he wanted more. At the beginning of his journey, any possible interaction with the man had been nothing more than a dream, a complete fantasy, but it had suddenly and wonderfully come true. Elio felt powerful, as if he had willed it into existence. As if through his dreaming he had made the events between leaving their seats and returning to them come to life. He had dreamed of their intimate moments, but never thought they would become reality.

Was any of it real? He had no way of getting any confirmation, what with the man sleeping soundly next to him. Even if he had been awake, asking the stranger if he had simply dreamed up having the best orgasm of his life seemed far too embarrassing.

And why exactly was the man sleeping so soundly beside him? Had their activities worn him out that much? As far as Elio knew, the stranger hadn’t come, at least not while he had been present. He listened closely to the man’s breaths as best he could without being obvious, trying to determine if this was the breathing of someone simply sleeping, or if he was breathing deeply because he had fallen into a swift post-orgasm slumber.

Elio had wanted so desperately to see the man come undone under his touch, wanted to give the man what he had given him. Had the stranger taken care of himself after Elio had left? He remembered feeling the man’s big bulge pressed up against the seam of his ass, had felt how hard it was even through his clothing. As far as Elio could figure, the man had either taken some time to jerk off or cool down. Those were usually the only options when dealing with a raging boner and no release.

He wished the man hadn’t cleaned up his come, so he could have used it as lube and stroked the man to orgasm. He wished to have turned back around before going out the door, to have grabbed the man and stuck his hand down his pants. Thinking about the man pulsing over his hand made him shiver. He wondered if the man was big, maybe he was bigger than average; if his giant hands were anything to go by, certainly there was a correlation. His own hands were normal sized, but surely he’d still be able to wrap them all the way around, fingertips touching at the side of the man’s thick co--

Elio slammed back into reality from his sexy remembrances and squirmed, clearing his throat. He changed positions to make sure his crotch wasn’t so exposed to wandering eyes that might catch sight of the slight bulge rapidly forming there. That the man had so much power over him, even simply in his daydreams, was intoxicating. His presence was a powerful aphrodisiac that took Elio over completely. He narrowed his eyes at the passing landscape, focusing on steadying his breath.

How long had they really been in that bathroom? Had he imagined it, or dreamt it? Had he stepped into a wormhole leading to an alternate universe and come out the other side? At this point, Elio entertained any and all possibilities.

It certainly felt like a dream. He hadn’t been able to accept it as reality even as it was happening, as the man was touching him. That touch that had been seared into him, that radiated on his skin even now. As if on cue, the ghost of the man’s fingerprint burned. He felt heat at the spot at the base of his dick, which then started radiating down his shaft. Elio leaned his chin on his hand and crossed his legs. 

His dick was always betraying him.

Traitor.

He wanted to ask the man if he remembered. He wanted to hear the man speak of what they had done, to have it spoken out loud so as to be real. Had the man found it just as profound as he did? Did he matter to the man at all?

Maybe they weren’t strangers after all. Maybe they had met before, had passed each other without knowing it or were lovers in a past life. Maybe they were continuing something that had started long ago. If that was true maybe they would meet again. Perhaps this is what they did. They would meet somewhere, pretending not to know each other, then slip away into their own world and reemerge as if nothing had happened.

They were just continuing their own little game. This is just what they did. They pretended that it was spontaneous. Pretended they were strangers.

He chose to believe that it did really happen, that their encounter had been real. He felt connected to the stranger in ways he had never felt before. He felt their connection deeply, despite having only just met, despite not knowing much about the stranger, not even his name. 

A world where Elio got to have the stranger at all, even if only for a moment, felt like a parallel life. If there was this reality, where he got to have him, there must be others, like many rivers winding through the landscape side-by-side and never touching. 

Elio already felt like he had lived two parallel lives in the space of his journey. One where he only dreamed of the stranger’s touch and the other where he felt it, albeit briefly. It had been the strongest and most fleeting touch of his life, and his chest squeezed at the thought of never finding it again. 

The two realities that existed between him and the stranger on the train itself felt like opposites. Have and have not. Touched and not touched. Masked and unmasked. There was no way these worlds should exist alongside each other, and yet they did. Even though they should oppose each other, they existed together. Maybe they were dependent upon each other for existence; one could not be without the other. 

Two sides of the same coin. Two halves of one whole. 

He would carry the stranger with him forever. The man had changed his parts, had defined his very existence by changing them. How could he go on knowing this stranger had changed him fundamentally and would leave? How could he go without seeing him ever again?

Just then, the conductor’s voice is announcing their arrival. This is the end of their journey.

At that the stranger stirs. Elio fears looking at him because he knows all his emotions are visible on his face. He wills his face into a neutral expression, into one of calm and peace even though that’s the last thing he feels. Beside him, the stranger takes his time packing his things - straightening his papers, winding the cord of his headphones neatly and putting away his book. The man leans his torso over his legs, putting various things away in the pockets of the bag at his feet. Elio feels him slipping away.

The stranger sits back up, having finished his packing. They turn toward each other, movements mirroring one another in timing and speed. Elio brings his hand up to rub at his neck, gazing at the stranger nervously from underneath dark eyelashes. They look at each other awkwardly, small smiles and questioning eyes. It feels like they had gone back to how it was before kisses and caresses, coffee and feet, even before chit-chat. Elio tries to think of what to say but nothing seems enough, so he keeps quiet. The stranger busies himself with double-checking his belongings.

The train slows as they approach the station. The car is blustling, passengers around him moving to gather their belongings, ready to burst out of the train the moment the doors open. But Elio is frozen, not moving. He can’t. He doesn’t want to get off the train, all of a sudden fearing leaving it behind, leaving behind the two worlds, leaving behind this new version of himself. Leaving behind the stranger.

Two realities had existed on the train. One with the stranger’s touch behind closed doors, one with the stranger by his side but not touching. How could he leave either of those when the world outside the train was a far worse option - the stranger wouldn’t be there at all.

He wants the stranger’s hands all over him, inside of him. He wants to hold on and not let go. 

Elio is suddenly fed up with worrying, with questioning. He’s done with what ifs and regret. He’ll take what he can get, as long as what passed between them doesn’t go unacknowledged. All he wants is the stranger to look into his eyes one last time, to say goodbye. To say that it mattered. 

But before Elio gets his moment, the stranger hops into the aisle, bag slung over his broad shoulder, seemingly eager to leave. Elio’s heart breaks a little. He stays in his seat, arms circling the backpack in his lap. He hugs it tighter as the man takes a step away from him and towards the door. It’s clear he’s going to continue as he takes another small step, his progress stalled only by the line of people in front of him.

Resigned, Elio stands and gets in line behind the man, hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack. He puts his sunglasses on his head, ready for the waiting sunlight. They move towards the door, Elio is thinking only about how much he wants the man to turn around. Just one last glance, just one more time before he goes. 

He needs to take some physical part of the stranger with him, his shirt, his heart.

Elio holds his breath as they get closer to the door, waiting for the man to turn back. They cross the threshold. He lets out his breath and starts to sag with the crushing weight of the impending rejection.

Just as he thinks this is it, he’ll never see him again, the man turns back towards Elio. There is a brilliance to his face, a light, like the sun, and his blue eyes sparkle brightly. Elio feels the warmth coming off him like he’s caught in a sunbeam, opening up and absorbing it without a second thought. 

The stranger’s eyes lock on his face. 

“Really nice to meet you.”

Elio is floating, the stranger’s warmth making him fly.

“It was really nice to meet you too.” Elio feels like he’s on the beach, sun above and sun-warmed sand below, sun all around him.

“Have a safe rest of your trip,” Elio says, his eyes crinkling and teeth showing through smiling lips.

Elio extends his hand, stopping halfway between them, waiting. The stranger’s eyes gaze into his as he feels a warm palm meet his own. 

Elio says his name, an offering. The stranger replies with his own, drawing out each syllable, and Elio’s never heard anything more beautiful. A gift.

“Later.” The man’s face is genuine, the word like a caress.

Elio is in bliss, resplendent. He’s never felt more content, more sure of something. 

The man turns back around, and the smile stays on Elio’s face. He’s bathed in the man’s light, wishing he could turn it into something tangible so he could hold it in his hands. He wants to save it for later, have it for always.

The man turns and walks across the platform. Elio watches the back of his form as it moves away. In his head, a single word echoes, like a note ringing out again and again, like a song playing on repeat. A coda, a refrain, an ostinato. 

_Oliver_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An ostinato is a motif or phrase that persistently repeats in the same musical voice, frequently in the same pitch.
> 
> ***
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!! This story was born out of a real-life experience of meeting someone on a bus trip and the fact that Elio and Oliver own my head and my heart. My own experience was quite mundane compared to these two, and obviously my imagination took over and I wrote some fun and sexy things because WHY NOT. Parts of their interaction before they left for the dining car, as well as the ending were inspired by what really happened to me. Thanks for coming along on this weird and wonderful journey.
> 
> I also made Oliver softer here just because I could. He comes across as quite cruel in CMBYN, at least through Elio's eyes, and it makes my heart hurt. Obviously there is still a lot unspoken between these versions of them, but I don't spend nearly as much time lingering on the icy stares and seeming rejection.
> 
> Last but not least, it’s just been announced that in the CMBYN sequel, Sammy has a CHANCE ENCOUNTER ON A TRAIN. OK, so it’s the wrong character, but I was on the right track. *is smug about train pun* *pats self on back*
> 
> Leave me a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Many hearts to you <3 <3 <3


End file.
